


Get Out Alive (Run For Your Life)

by itreads



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Normal AU, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Starving tw, physical abuse tw, scars tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itreads/pseuds/itreads
Summary: My name is Simon Snow. I don't really know how old I am. I'm homeschooled by my father so I've never had any friends or knowledge of how other people work. I rarely leave the house. There's not really much else to tell.-In which Simon runs away, Penny is a Mum Friend™, and the two of them find an unexpected ally in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry kids but this one's gonna be heavy on the abuse. General trigger warnings are in the tags but let me know if there's anything else you'd like me to mention at the start of chapters in the comments.

_**Simon** _

The worst thing about it, I think, is that when I was younger I didn't even realise it wasn't normal.

 _It. This._ Isn't it funny how I can talk so openly about it without giving it a name?

Abuse. There, I've said it. And it doesn't change anything.

My name is Simon Snow. I don't really know how old I am (we never celebrate birthdays at home) but I'm guessing it's somewhere around 18. I'm homeschooled by my father so I've never had any friends or knowledge of how other people work. I rarely leave the house. There's not really much else to tell.

David's my dad, but I call him by his name. He says  _father_ sounds too personal - he doesn't want me to get too attached, too reliant on him. He says it will make me weak. He's always talking about making me a stronger person. "One day you'll thank me for this," he says.

One day. But not today.

It started right from the off, I think. I was born, Mum died, he started attacking me. Physically, verbally. Emotionally.

Up until I was about 14, I thought it was normal. I thought it was how every family worked: children were punished every time they messed up. Then he locked me out for a week, and I saw the outside world for the first time.

He'd done it before, locked me out, but before it had only been for a day or a night at a time, so I'd stayed sat on the doorstep until he let me in again. I waited for a day and a night then, too, but he still hasn't opened the door for me. By the second evening, I'd gotten so hungry I wandered into town in search of something to eat.

I can still remember the rush of emotions flooding through me the first time I truly saw the outside world for what it was. It was so vibrant, so full of life and people, and even though they didn't notice me, they still seemed far more interesting than the only other person I'd ever seen (David).

Of course, I didn't have any money, but I knew enough from what I'd been taught that I couldn't just wander into the shops and take whatever I wanted. So I waited outside a restaurant (McDonald's, I found it by smell more than anything) until a family of five finished, then scavenged their waste to find my meal.

It wasn't much - half a carton of fries and two stone cold chicken nuggets - nowhere near enough to feed my hunger, but it was food. I'd survived worse before. I crunched on the last few ice cubes that hadn't melted and left.

I went back home and slept on the doorstep. By then, I had grown used to the cold, so I wasn't all that bothered by the environment. (Besides, it was late spring - hardly like it was snowing.)

He didn't let me in the following morning. I was terrified that this was it, that I'd fucked up so bad this time he'd never open the door for me again. I'd have nowhere to go. No friends, no family (that I knew of). No one. Nowhere.

I spent most of that week in the library. Not reading (I could, David taught me how) but observing. Watching other people. Noticing how the mother of a toddler hugged and kissed her child when he cried. Seeing how the teenagers held hands and looked at each other like there was no one else in the world. Staring, dumbfounded, at the abundance of love that filled every corner, every crevice.

Those five days were the moments when I realised that David wasn't like other parents.

Those were the days when I began to hate him.

 

* * *

 

 

I first met Penny in the library, although not in the first week. David locked me out again a few months later, sometime in August, and I thought it best to come back to the only place I knew. (I still slept on the doorstep - I never knew quite when he would let me back in. Besides, the library was closed at night.)

David has locked me out plenty of times, for some reason of his own. It's always like that with him; I never know the  _why_ when it comes to all the stuff he does. He did let something slip, once. "There will come a time when I won't be there to protect you, Simon," he said. "You must learn how to defend yourself in the real world. You need to become a stronger person."

I don't think he was telling the truth. He will always be in my life because - and I'm just guessing here - I think he might kill me before he has the chance to die himself.

I try not to think about it.

 

I met Penny like I met everyone else I'd ever seen. I stared at her and another boy who seemed to be her older brother, committing their lives to memory. (I tried to focus more on the families, trying to piece together what a normal family should look like.) But then she stomped over to me (Penny always stomps, I think she thinks it's efficient) and demanded to know why I was staring at her.

Penny (full name: Penelope) is not like the other people I'd seen. The most noticeable thing about her then had been her bright blue hair, which I'd never seen before. Also, she actually talked to me. After she'd finished at telling me off for staring at her and her brother, Premal, (without once hitting or even touching me, it was like a fairytale to my fourteen-year-old self) she talked to me.

It was easier than you'd think to keep my home life a secret - I barely needed to lie at all. I just fended her off with questions about herself.

Penny loves to talk. About everything. All at once. Sometimes I wonder how she has all the words to say that much that fast. I never could.

Even with her being the centre of attention for most of our conversations, though, she still managed to piece some things together (she's wicked smart, Penny). Like when she lifted her fist (hand talker) and I flinched. Her lips pursed in a funny little "o" shape and her eyes went dull, as if she were actually retreating into her head to store the new information.

I think if that hadn't happened, she would have thought I was homeless. I was wrapped in a hundred layers of clothes and my skin was pulled too tight over my face, eyes sunken in. Plus, I never actually gave the name of the man I lived with, even when she asked. I just called him  _my father_ , something I've never done before. I think she thought I was lying.

She knows a lot more now, obviously; over the years I've slowly let her hear more about myself. I trust her not to tell anybody. She knows enough to figure out he'd probably kill me if anyone else finds out.

Penny goes to school during the year, some boarding type in north London, so I only get to see her in the summer. Even then there's no guarantee - there's no pattern or rhyme to when David shuts me out.

We never go round Penny's house, just in case David has spies following me every step. We don't always stay in the library, but we never go anywhere near her home. I couldn't risk leading  _him_ there. Not just to protect Penny, either. She has four siblings, three younger than her. She loves them so much, I'd hate to be the one putting them in danger. I'd hate for it to be my fault.

It's always my fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's more graphic than the last, sorry. I promise I don't like hurting them. (I lie. I love it. I'm not apologising.)

**_Simon_ **

David hasn't locked me out in a while. I think the last time was about a year and a half ago, the last time I saw Penny. It's December now, and I have to wear a few more layers than normal because David never puts the heating on.

He's out right now. I'm making dinner for the both of us - another little piece of freedom he's granted me recently. I love it because I can be sure he hasn't poisoned my food.

I'm making samosas. They're these small, triangular stuffed pastries that Penny told me about once. We've never had them before and it's risky, but I really wanted to try them. Besides, David hasn't been too bad lately. He barely hits me at all (at least not hard enough to break any bones) and he lets me have three decent sized meals a day -  _three_ \- and none of them have been poisoned in a while.

It might be because I've been behaving better recently too. I've finally cracked the code - I know what to do and what not to do to keep him civilised.

Anyway, I know making samosas is a risk, but it's one I'm willing to take if it means I get to try a new food.

Or at least I think so, until he comes thundering through the front door, almost ripping it from its hinges. He's in a bad mood.

Suddenly, I don't want samosas all that much.

"Simon!" he yells through the house. His voice is strange and slurred. I think he's been drinking.

"In the kitchen!" I call back, trying to keep my voice steady and my hands still.

And then he's there and I'm not prepared for this - he looks worse than I'd imagined. His hair and his eyes and his expression are wild. I watch as a line of spit slides from his bottom lip to the tip of his chin. There's more foaming at the corners of his mouth.

His clothes are torn and he has blood on his knuckles. It's not his own. My heart thumps just a little bit louder in my chest.

"I made us samosas," I say, the shake in my voice betraying my fear. It's better to get it out in the open now than to wait until I've already pissed him off more.

He doesn't like it, though. "When have we ever had samosas before?" he asks. It's more of a growl. I have to wipe the sweat from my hands on my trousers.

"I- I read about them in a book," I stammer. "In the library." I'm only half sure he knew I go to the library when he locks me out.

He definitely knows now.

David mumbles something too quiet for me to hear, but then his voice rises. "I don't like them. Why couldn't you cook me something I like!"

"I- I didn't know!" My chin is wobbling and my hands would be shaking if I wasn't wringing them to a pulp in front of me.

"Why can't you just be a normal child, Simon! You're 18, for Christ's sake! You should know how to behave without me having to tell you!" Spit is flying, now. I think some goes in my eye, but I'm so scared I don't feel it.

"I'm sorry, David." I don't know if he hears it. My voice is stuck in my throat.

"Sorry's not enough!" His hands are flying, too. "Maybe something else will help you learn..."

"Please-" I whimper, but he's already balling his fists. I take an involuntary step back as I try to prepare myself for the usual.

But this time is different, somehow. He's hammering into me with fists, elbows, feet, everything, harder than I ever remember. He kicks me in the ribs and I hear something crack. The pain is so much that I double over, putting my hand down next to me to steady myself - but that's where the hob is and it  _burns_. I can't move it because he's pressing down on my fingers with his elbow while he uses his knee to hit my stomach over and over and over. I'm screaming and writhing and my vision is going and I can't stop myself-

It's an impressive punch. It lands on his jaw and sends him staggering back. He lets go of me and I instinctively pull my blistering hand into my chest, staring in disbelief at the welts covering it.

David's gone silent apart from his heavy breathing. I hear him move and stand up straight. Slowly. It takes me a moment to realise why this is different, wrong.

He's got a gun.

It's aimed at my face, between my eyebrows.

"Simon," he breathes.

I run.

 

I run into the downstairs toilet, locking the door behind me. It won't hold for long, especially if he has a gun (he has a _gun_ ), but it's better than nothing. I open the window as wide as I can whilst loosening two floorboards with my toes.

It's still there. My rucksack, with the few essentials I could piece together over the years: A map. A water bottle, empty. A pack of oat cakes. A crumpled fiver.

There's no time for a sigh of relief. I heave the bag onto my shoulder and dive out of the window just as I hear David thumping on the door, trying to get in. I'm lucky he's drunk; if he had his usual reflexes, I wouldn't even have made it this far. I run as fast as I can, not really sure where I'm going.

Away from here.

I don't think as I run. There's a taxi coming towards me so I wave it down. Miraculously, it pulls over.

The driver rolls down his window and I bend down breathless, then...

I pause. Because I don't know how to do this. Because it's just hitting me that I've run away (I've run away). Because I'm terrified.

"All right there, lad?" the driver asks, cheery as anything. "Need a tissue? You got a little..." He taps on his nose.

 _Shit._ I wipe at my nose with my jumper sleeve. It comes away crimson.

"I-" I say, choking. "I- Can I have a lift? Can you...?"

"That's my job, son."

"Can you- to wherever I need?"

He sighs. "That's my job."

"Okay," I say, trying to calm myself. "Okay."

"Here, why don't you come and sit, nice and warm, and we can discuss. You'll catch your death standing in the cold like that." He looks at my feet. I'm still wearing the old pair of flip flops I keep on around the house. My feet are blue and numb.

"Okay," I say again. "Thank you."

I get in the front seat, wincing as I sit down. I definitely have at least one broken rib.

"All right there, lad?" the driver asks again, this time with more comfort and curiosity in his voice. "Where can I take you? The hospital?" He glances down at the blisters and welts on my palm.

"No!" I say too quickly. "I-"

"Get in a fight?" he asks, sneering.

"Is it your job to ask questions?" I snap, and then: "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry- I didn't mean... I'm sorry."

"It's fine, mate," he says. It sounds like he's trying to make his words as soothing as possible, but it's not really working because he has a naturally gravelly voice. Again, he asks, "Where can I take you?"

"I, um," I begin. I don't know. Where did Penny say her school was? Wat- Watford!

"Watford!" I say. "Can you take me to Watford, please?"

"Okay, son, that'll be thirty quid."

 _Crap._ Stupidly, I'd completely forgotten about money. My face falls. "How far can you get me with five pounds?" My voice is small.

"Not far, I'm afraid," he says, and my face falls further (is that even possible?).

A thought occurs to me. It's a disgusting idea, but I'm desparate. I have to try.

"Can I pay you when I get there?" I ask.

Penny has money.

"Sure," he replies.

If I explain, she might just pay for me.

"Can my friend pay when I get to her?"

I'll pay her back.

"I guess so," he says, but he doesn't sound sure. "Does she know you're coming?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes." It's a small lie. It won't matter that much.

"Brilliant," he says. "Watford, here we come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually got a taxi in London before. It's probably not that easy. Oh well. Artistic licence, or something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long my phone hates me

_**Penny** _

The first time I saw Simon, he was a skinny kid with too-big eyes and a mop of curls on top of his head. He looked pretty awful, even then - his cheeks cut through his skin and his smile was too big, too red. I'll admit, at first I thought he was anorexic or something, but as soon as we started talking I knew that wasn't it.

The last time I saw Simon, he looked even worse. His eyes had gone from being too big to sunken in, heavy lidded and off colour - the blue was dull and the white was yellow. He'd grown taller but hadn't put on any more weight, so his skin clung to his jaw and hung off his arms. He had a fading bruise just below his ear.

That was a year and a half ago. I dread to think what he looks like now.

I asked Mum about David once (Simon let his name slip in a conversation once - I don't think he meant to tell me). She said, "the David who lives across town? We called him Davy in school. He was a bit of a weirdo." She had this far away look in her eyes, but it wasn't dreamy - more like hatred she'd never been able to let out.

"He called himself the Mage in primary school," Mum continued. "Some sort of alter ego, I suppose. He just got stranger with age."

"Yeah, he did," I agreed quietly. This was probably definitely the same David.

"He never had any friends. Actually, no - he had a girlfriend the last couple of years of secondary."

"Really?"

"Really." Mum's tone turned angry. "She was my best friend."

I didn't ask her again.

 

It was kind of worrying when I didn't see Simon this summer. I know he can't pick and choose when he leaves, but we'd met up every summer since the first. I didn't want to think about why he wasn't there.

There have been too many times to count where I have almost given up and called the police. I even dialed 999 once, but I put the phone down before I actually called. I have to respect Simon's asking me not to. Because he trusts me. Because I would put him in danger. Because he's my friend.

 _Friend._  I've never had a friend like Simon before. But then, I don't think anyone else has either.

I have two other friends, Agatha and Micah. (Does Micah even count? He's my boyfriend, so probably not. Besides, he lives in America.) Agatha goes to school with me, but she can't wait to get out. She once told me she wants to move to California, far away from everything here. I think she might actually do it.

I need Simon here, alive. He's the only person I'll have left.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Simon_ **

I try to sleep for as much of the journey as I can - I don't know when I'll get another chance - but the roads are all bumpy and my head keeps banging against the window, right where I can feel a bruise on my left temple. It's hard to get comfortable, too - now that the shock is wearing off, my ribs are hurting a lot.

My hand hurts too, but it's a little easier to manage; I can keep hold of it and still it through the bumps and knocks of the car on the old roads.

I have a headache and I think my nose is broken. I need to cry as well, but I try to hold it in. Not because I don't want to cry in front of the taxi driver - there's way too much blood on my face for him to be able to distinguish what's blood and what's tears - but because if I sniff, I might inhale more blood than is healthy.

It's dark when we arrive. I have the sudden realisation that I've got no idea what I'm doing. I'm in Watford: now what?

"Um," I say. "Do you know where the school is?"

"Might wanna be a bit more specific," the driver replies. "There's a couple 'a schools here."

"Um," I say again. Eloquent. Nice. "It's a... boarding school?"

"Ah, I know the one." But he doesn't start driving again. Instead, he turns to me and asks, " Do you actually know what you're doing?"

"Truthfully," I say, "no. I have no clue what I'm doing. But I need somewhere to go and Penny's the only person I know and trust. I'll figure it out once I get to her."

The taxi driver still doesn't restart the car. "Do you want me to call the police?"

"No!" I choke. The question surprises me. "No, thank you, I'm fine." I try not to sound as desperate this time.

"You look it," he says, but he doesn't push it; he starts the taxi again and takes me to Penny's school.

 

When we get there, he locks the car doors and follows me in. I must look confused because he says, "Don't want you running off without paying, do I?" I think it's meant to be a joke, but it falls flat. Awkwardly, we make our way through the gates and into the main entrance.

I don't have much to go by, but the hall looks surprisingly modern. I assumed all boarding schools were the fancy old castle type, but this... Maybe there's a castle behind the entrance.

There's a secretary sat behind a glass window. I walk up and try to think of a way to announce myself without startling her.

She notices me before I need to. "What can I do for you?" she asks sweetly. She doesn't look up, and I'm glad because I must look terrible - covered in blood, limping, my nose swollen to the size of a small potato.

"Can I see Penny- Penelope Bunce, please?" I ask.

"Who are you?" she asks, finally looking up. She does well to only flinch a little.

"I'm her friend."

"What's your  _name_ , sweetheart?"

"Oh," I say, embarrassed. "I'm Simon Snow."

"Okay, Mr Snow." She writes something down on a piece of paper I can't see. "Is Miss Bunce expecting you?"

"Uh, no," I wince, checking behind me to see if the driver hears. He's standing with his back against the wall, looking around the room. He doesn't look like he heard.

The secretary looks me in the eye. "Unfortunately it's not visiting hours at the moment. You can't see Miss Bunce until tomorrow morning, 10am."

"But-" I start, stopping myself when I realise how whiny I must sound. Calming my voice, I say, "It's kind of an emergency."

"What sort of emergency?" She's efficient but not unkind. Not in the same way as Penny, but in the way most old lady secretaries are.

"I, um," I say. I don't want to tell her. I don't want to tell myself. I need a few more minutes of ignorance before I accept what I did. "I- Penny would understand, Miss, please can I just talk to her?" I let a little bit of the whine back into my voice in an attempt to win her over. I don't exactly have a winning argument.

"I don't think-"  the secretary says, just as the taxi driver steps forward and says to both of us, "Can we hurry this along, do you think? I'd like to get home tonight."

The secretary eyes the two of us. I try to make my face look as desperate as possible - which doesn't take much with the bruises and blood already there. "Fine," she says, standing up. "I'll see what I can do. Both of you wait here."

Once she's left, I turn to the taxi driver. "Thank you."

"What for?" he asks casually.

"For-" I swallow, "For this. For everything. Thank you."

He shrugs. "No problem, kid."

We stand there for about five minutes before footsteps sound along the corridor. Seconds later, Penny rounds the corner with the secretary and a large man who looks like some sort of bodyguard.

I don't care.

Penny squeals my name and my knees are a little bit weak, but I manage to keep myself upright as she runs towards me and pulls me into a ferocious hug.

"Penny," I breathe, and I think we're both crying but I don't mind because she's  _here_ , and I finally feel safe for the first time in my life.

"Oh my god, Simon, you're alive," she whispers, and she's grinning and patting my hair like she can't quite believe I'm here. My ribs hurt but I almost can't feel it through the feeling of being near her.

I don't know how long we stand like that, but someone clears their throat. It's the taxi driver. I pull away from Penny, grabbing her right hand in my left (it's my good hand). "Penny, I'm so sorry, do you have any money? I-"

"Thirty quid," the driver interrupts.

"I had to leave in a hurry and- I'm sorry Pen, I wouldn't if-"

"Of course," she's saying. "Of course." She pulls a wallet out of her back pocket and skillfully grabs a twenty and two fivers with her free hand. "Simon, what happened?" she asks as she hands the notes over.

I turn to the taxi driver, ignoring her for the moment, and say, "Thank you so much. Again. For everything - I mean it." I really do. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't got a taxi.

I probably would have walked. I have a map.

"Not to worry, lad. Any time." With that, he turns and walks away. I watch until I can't see him anymore.

Finally, I face Penny again. My stomach churns at the thought of telling her, of reliving the moment through my words. But I'll have to do it at some point, and Penny - she's been so good to me. She deserves to know.

At the look on my face, she asks the secretary and the large man if the two of us can have some privacy. The secretary, who Penny called Miss Possibelf, shows us to a small room in the sickbay area.

"I'll be back in a few minutes with a nurse," she says. I think she's figured out I'm not a threat.

As soon as the door closes, Penny turns her full attention to me. It's intimidating and a little bit scary. I have to look at my lap.

"Was that guy back there a bodyguard?" I ask to break the silence. (I'm stalling and we both know it.)

"No, he's actually the caretaker; I think Miss Possibelf was using him for appearances." Penny answers anyway; she always does. I've never known her to leave a question unanswered.

"Is he-"

"Simon, stop distracting me - stop distracting yourself. What-"

"He had a gun, Penny," I blurt out.

Well. That's one way to start.

Penny doesn't say anything, so I look back up at her face. I'm surprised - for the first time since I've known her, she seems to be at a loss for words.

So I keep talking.

"He'd been so good. He hadn't locked me out since March; he hadn't hit me hard enough to break anything in over a year; I'd been getting three full meals a day, Penny.  _Three_. And none of them were poisoned. I thought - hoped, foolishly - that he was getting better, but then he came home this evening and he was drunk, so drunk. I- I made him samosas. He didn't want them." It sounds so silly, so stupid out loud. "It escalated quickly - he was kicking, punching. I think he broke one of my ribs. I burned my hand on the hob. And then- then-" I take a deep breath, still looking at Penny. "I don't know, I was in so much pain and I- I punched him. Penny, I'm such a terrible person; I've never hit someone before. And then he reached in his back pocket and he pulled out a gun. So I ran."

Suddenly, my words have run out. I finish, my voice smaller than ever, with, "He's never had a gun before. I was scared."

There's a beat of silence before Penny realises I'm done. Then, she says, "Fuck, Simon, you don't need a nurse - you need the hospital."

"I can't go to the hospital!" I protest.

"With a broken rib and third degree burns on your hand? I think you can, Simon."

"I've broken bones before, Penny, and I didn't need a hospital then. Hospitals will ask too many questions."

"Say you got in a fight."

"Oh, yeah, because that'll explain why you can count every rib, every bone in my spine. That's going to explain the  _scars_."

"Self Harm! Anorexia! I don't know, Simon, make something up!" She's nearly yelling. She won't back down.

I stand up suddenly and try to hide my wince as pain shoots up my side. I yank my jumpers, t-shirt, vest over my head and turn to face her, shirtless.

"I-" she starts, but she slows down when she sees my body. (My ribs look worse than I'd imagined. Nothing's sticking out, but a green and yellow bruise covers everything on one side, from my armpit to my belly button.)

I've rendered her speechless again, and she can't do more than point to a smattering of small scars running down my right arm in question.

"Glass," I whisper. "He slammed me into a window and it shattered. He ground my shoulder into the debris."

She walks around me, still shocked. She points to another scar, this one bumpy and on my chest.

"Hot iron. I was thirteen." I can't even remember what I did that time, but I remember him shoving me onto my knees and pressing the red-hot metal onto my skin like a brand. I still hear the sizzle of my skin sometimes, in my nightmares.

She's still walking round me, slowly, taking everything in. I almost tell her to stop because I know she's going to get to the one on my back.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday.

He was angry. He hadn't left the house in weeks and was beginning to get riled up at being caged in for so long.

He'd been preparing food, carving up some sort of red meat. I'd come downstairs to see when dinner would be ready.

When he saw me come into the kitchen, he said ever so quietly, "Did I not tell you to stay in your room?"

I swallowed. "Yes, David. I was just-"

"I told you to stay in your room!" he screamed, facing me.

"Yes, David. I'll go back now."

That was my mistake. I turned my back on him.

"No!" he roared, and my shoulder burst in a supernova of white-hot, blinding pain. I fell to the floor.

He'd thrown the carving knife he'd been using on the meat. It was wedged in my back.

I'm lucky to still be alive.

Penny's looking at it now, the massive, angry scar. I can feel her stare, hot on my shoulder.

"Knife," I say, but the words get caught in my throat and come out in a wet sob. "I was in bed for two weeks."

"Oh my god," is all she can say, her hand resting at her throat. "I-"

"Don't, Penny."

"We- we'll see what the nurse can do."

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door.

"Come in," I say. I don't bother putting my clothes back on - I'll just be asked to take them off again. Besides, it hurt enough to take all the layers off. I'm not going to unnecessarily go through it again.

The nurse comes in. She's young - early twenties, I think.

"Hi, Helen," Penny says. She sounds kind of depressed. I feel bad.

"Hi, Penelope," the nurse, Helen, says back. "How's Premal?"

"Same asshole he's always been."

"Touché. Do you want to go wait outside?"

Penny looks at me. "Simon?" I know what she's asking, and I really need her to stay. Now that I'm with her, it's going to be really hard to give her up again. I shake my head.

She turns back to Helen. "Actually, is it alright if I stay in here?"

The nurse looks at me now. "Please," I beg, my voice a hoarse, breathy whisper.

"Alright then." She takes a step forward, hands up, and I flinch. She notices and says, "I'm going to take a look at your hand first, okay?"

I hold it out for her, looking at the floor.

Helen works gently but quickly, moving across the three main wounds (nose, ribs, hand). Penny talks to her all the while, distracting her from the questions she must be dying to ask. I'm left pretty much alone with my thoughts, and it's only now that I realise the fucked up situation I've got myself into. I'm in the middle of a new town miles from the only home I've ever known with nothing but a five pound note and six oat cakes to keep me going. I have nowhere to sleep and no one to go to - the only person I know here is Penny, and I can't exactly stay with her.

The room's gone quiet so I look up. They're both staring at me and I realise one of them must have asked me a question.

"Sorry," I say, not sure how to continue.

"You're all patched up," Helen says. "You'll need to keep your head elevated; you'll probably need to keep ice on it for a while. You need to rest for your ribs - no exercise or anything for at least eight weeks - and I suggest you don't use that hand for a while, either."

I look at it. It's covered in bandages, as is my chest. They both still hurt.

"All good?" Helen asks. "Great. I'll be back in a few minutes." The door falls closed behind her and once again I'm in the room alone with Penny.

"Where's she going?" I ask.

"She went to get you some painkillers and dinner. I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet."

"Painkillers. Huh." I've never heard of them before, but I'm not stupid enough to ask what they're for. The name spells it out just fine. "And no, I haven't eaten yet." I don't tell her that even if I'd had a three course meal I'd still be able to eat another. I'm always hungry.

Penny takes a breath. We can both feel the unanswered question hanging in the air between us. I don't think either of us are prepared to ask it.

"Simon-"

"I don't know, Penny," I cut in. "I don't know what I'm going to do next. But I know that I'm going to stay here for as long as I can, because the only possible answer I can think of is going home."

"No." She sounds angry.

"Maybe I should, though. Maybe I should get it over and done with. Prolonging the inevitable isn't going to help anybody, and we both know I'll have to go back at some point."

"No, Simon!" Now she sounds angry and desperate. "What if he hurts you? Worse than before? He has a gun! What if he...?"

"Kills me?" I finish for her. "Then I'll just have to take it in my stride. It was always going to happen. A matter of when, not if."

"How can you even say that? You know first hand what he's like! You can't go back. You just... can't."

"Compelling argument, Pen."

Her next retort is lost in the sound of the door reopening. Helen comes in, and it's clear she can see she's interrupted something. Penny's standing in the middle of the room, fists clenched and eyes wild, tears littering her face. I'm not much better: my arms are stuck in a sort of limbo between hanging at my side and folded over my chest (it hurts to cross them). I'm crying too; I can feel the tears on my face now that the blood's been cleaned away.

"What were you saying, Penny?" I ask.

She looks down, defeated. "Just... Just eat your food, Simon."

 

* * *

 

 

_**Penny** _

I should have called the police as soon as he showed up on the front step of school, covered in blood and sweat and tears.

I should have called the police the moment I met him.

And now he's telling me he's going to go straight back? He can't. I won't let him. I would cut off my own right arm if it meant he could be safe for the rest of his life (or just a year. A month. A week - any time at all). Hell, I would sacrifice a lot more than that. Name your fucking price.

I wish I knew what to suggest instead. I would happily give him my own bed - Trixie be damned - but they'd never allow it.

Simon's slept on the streets before. I feel sick at the thought of it, but if it means he'd be safe...

Of course, there's the fear that Davy will find him and steal him away in the middle of the night. No one would know a thing. No, the streets are not an option.

Surely there's a spare room somewhere in this damned school? It's a bloody castle - there must be somewhere - it doesn't even have to be with the rest of us. I wouldn't care if he had to sleep on the field with the goats. Just to keep him safe.

Wait a second... The goats! I've got it!

"Ebb!"

I don't realise I've said it out loud until Helen and Simon both stop and stare at me, confused expressions on their faces.

"What?" Simon says.

"You can stay in Ebb's barn!" I say. I feel like I've just cured cancer. Simon looks at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.

"Ebb's barn," I say again, slower this time. "She has a whole room and everything, but she's already left for the holidays so it's empty now. Simon, it's the perfect place for you to stay tonight!"

Simon raises an eyebrow. "And they'd allow that? Your school?"

I look at Helen.

"Don't look at me," she says, lifting her hands, palms up. "That's a question for the headmistress."

I stand up, grinning. "Mum."

 

* * *

 

 

_**Simon** _

 I'd know the woman who walked into the room was Penny's mum even if Penny hadn't already said. They look identical.

They're the same height. They have the same colour skin, even though Penny told me her dad is white. They have the same frizzy, unkempt hair, although Penny's mum's is a natural brown (Penny's is purple now, the colour of lavender fields in summer). Penny's mum starts talking, and I can tell they're identical on the inside as well.

She walks in and introduces herself as Mitali Bunce. She doesn't offer anything else in the way of a greeting, but it's okay - I know Penny hates fancy hellos too.

I've put both my jumpers on but I left the vest and t-shirt - they didn't fit with the bandages. Helen found me a pair of thick socks and some lost property trainers, too. I still can't feel my toes, but I'm starting to warm up a bit.

"Helen, you can leave now," Penny's mum says, studying me. She's brutally efficient. I wonder if it's genetic.

I realise I haven't introduced myself yet, but Penny beats me to it.

"Mum, this is Simon Snow, remember I told you about him?" I decide not to question her on this yet: I trust her to know when to keep quiet. "He needs somewhere to stay tonight, and I was thinking he could sleep in Ebb's barn seeing as she's not there at the moment."

"Hmm," Penny's mum hums absentmindedly. She's still staring at me. It's extremely intimidating. "And what's wrong with where Simon was sleeping before tonight?"

"Mum!" Penny gasps, and I have to admit I'm a little shocked too.

Penny pushes me away and stands in front of her mum, hands on her hips and shoulder squared. She's ruthless when she sets her mind to something.

"Mum, this is Davy's son."

Mitali loses her composure for a few seconds, and I know now that Penny hasn't actually told her mum that much.

"Davy?" I ask.

"Mum went to school with him," Penny explains.

"I didn't know he had a son," Mitali says. "You weren't at Lucy's funeral."

"I guess he didn't want anyone to know I existed. He still doesn't." I shrug. "He... He likes to keep me to himself."

Penny's mum looks like she wants to say something but isn't quite sure what. Penny saves us both.

"Off topic, guys! We're discussing where Simon's going to sleep tonight?"

"We'll have to run it by Ebb first, of course. But I don't think there'll be any problem with it." Mitali's already getting her phone out.

Penny's practically bouncing up and down. She grins and hugs me tight.

"Ouch, Pen," I wince. "Ribs!"

"Right, sorry." But she's still grinning.

"Penelope, I think it's about time you went to bed." She looks at her watch. "It's gone midnight."

"But mum, can't I sleep with Simon tonight?"

"Absolutely not. Go to bed." Mitali turns and walks out of the room, phone to her ear. I hear her say, "Hi, Ebb? Hiya," but I don't catch anymore of the conversation.

Suddenly, Penny's mood deflates. "Are you okay, Simon?" She addresses me even though we're the only people in the room.

"Honestly?" I say. "I'm not sure. It's been a really long day and I ache all over. I need to sleep."

She hugs me again, gently this time, wary of my bandages, and says, "Simon?"

"Hmm?" I reply, lost in the sage sent of her.

"You're not a terrible person."

"What?" I pull back from her.

"What you said earlier. About punching David? That doesn't make you a bad person."

I've been fucked up and pushed down so many times in my life that I'm not entirely sure what's good and what's bad anymore. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. Instead, I pull Penny closer and hug her like I never want to let go.

I don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the awkward chapter lengths by the way - I think they're gradually getting longer, which means there might be longer gaps between posts, sorry.

_**Simon** _

I wake up disorientated. It takes me a few seconds to work out where I am.

Fuck.

It all seems like a really big, really bad nightmare, but the fact that I'm lying in a barn with a load of goats (there's goat saliva in my trainers) means it actually happened.

Fuck. Again.

I have to get back. If I leave now I can get home today. He'll be angry, of course, but I can tell him I just wanted to scare him for a couple of hours - I always meant to come back home, back to him.

I look at the digital clock on Ebb's bedside table. The blue letters show 05:19. If I leave now I shouldn't get caught: no one will be up yet.

I rush to repack my rucksack, keeping my oatcakes and map and filling my water bottle from the tap at the back of the room. (Ebb, whoever she is, seems to sleep in her kitchen. It's weird, but I think this barn only has two rooms - a toilet and everything else.) I search the cupboards for extra food, but all I can find is a tin of instant coffee and half a pack of rich tea biscuits. I take the biscuits, hoping Ebb will forgive me. I pack my flip flops too, just in case.

I put my trainers back on, trying to ignore the dried spit coating them. I pull my rucksack onto my shoulder; the shoes and biscuits don't make it much heavier, but I let out a grunt anyway as pain lances through my side. My bandages probably need changing, but they'll have to wait until I get home.

 _Home._ That place never really felt like home to me. I pause for a moment. Do I really want to do this?

I guess I have no other option.

I leave the barn, shutting the door softly behind me. I vaguely remember seeing a back gate last night - I'll leave that way to avoid attention. I start to run, but I'm looking at my feet so I don't see the person in front of me until I've crashed into them. I'm so surprised that I fall over backwards, gasping and nearly blacking out as the pain in my ribs and hand gets a million times worse.

"Who the fuck are you?"

I look up. I can only make out the vague outline of the person standing over me, arms crossed - my vision hasn't cleared in the aftermath of the painful fall and the sun is still below the horizon. The figure is tall, and seems to be male.

"Sorry," I say. It's a breathy choke (all I can manage over the pain that's just starting to subside back to its usual ache). I scramble to get up (he doesn't offer a hand), careful not to put any weight on my right hand. I doubt it would make much of a difference anyway, but I don't want to take the risk.

My movement must trigger some sort of sensor because a bright light comes on, illuminating the barn and surrounding field. A few goats have come out to see what all the commotion is.

I can see the boy properly now. He's taller than me by about three inches, with wavy black hair that falls down to his shoulders. His eyes are a dark, swampy grey and his nose is too long. His lips are turned down at the corners; I wonder if it's his natural expression or if he's pissed off with me.

He smells like cigarette smoke. I take a step back.

"Who are you?" He asks again, still sneering.

"Don't tell Penny!" I blurt out. I curse myself silently - he only wanted to know my name, and now he's probably going to do the exact opposite of what I said because I look a little bit suspicious like this, eyes wide and a full rucksack on my back.

He reaches into his back pocket and my heart stops because it's the same action David pulled last night, but it's okay because he's only getting his phone out.

He's talking. I missed the first part due to the fear rushing in my ears, but I try to concentrate on his words now.

"... You don't look fit to be doing anything right now and - I hate to say this - but if Bunce tells you to do something, there's usually a good reason."

While he talks, he keeps his eyes on his phone. He lifts it to his ear now; I can hear the dial tone.

"Bunce," he sneers into his phone. "Do you happen to know a pretty boy who looks like he's just left the fighting ring?" I hear her yell " _Simon!_ " down the phone, then the boy puts his phone back into his pocket so she must have hung up.

If I'm going to run, I need to go now before Penny gets here. I might be able to do it, depending on how fast the boy is.

"So,  _Simon_ ," (he sneers my name, why is he always sneering?), "Where did you come from? Was I right about the fighting ring?" He raises an eyebrow mockingly. "How bad does the other guy look?"

"Don't joke," I snap, not looking him in the eye because I might punch  _him_. He's being such an ass.

I'm saved by the sound of a heavy door opening. We both look up to see Penny running across the field. She's wearing plaid pyjamas and her feet are bare. Her hair is even messier than usual, flying around her face as she runs. I think she just woke up.

"Simon, what the fuck!" she yells as she gets closer. "What are you doing?"

"Ribs!" I remind her as she almost barrels straight into me; she slows down just in time. I should prepare myself for a storm, but instead I whimper, deflated, "Please don't yell, Pen."

"Don't yell?" she starts. "What-" But she looks at my face and stops. "Simon, please."

"I have to go. I've been away too long - this was all a mistake." I take a deep breath, glancing at the boy behind us. He was staring at me, but he looks away quickly when my gaze meets his. I think he feels uncomfortable listening in on our conversation.

I lower my voice, leaning closer to Penny, although she's quite short and it's painful to stoop. I ignore the pain as best I can and say, "He'd never actually shoot me, Penny. Not - not where it could kill me, anyway. I'll survive."

"He threw a knife at you, Simon."

"Exactly! I'm still alive, aren't I?" Our voices have risen. I motion to the boy and we bring them back down again.

"If I go back now, we can pretend it was all a mistake," I say. Penny's not convinced and I can't say I am either. "What if he finds me here? What if he kills me?" A thought pops into my head. I want to throw up. "What if he kills  _you_? While I'm here, everyone in this school is at risk. I can't put all of you in that sort of danger!"

"Excuse me," the boy interrupts before Penny can say anything. He has a really posh voice. It fits with his sneer. "I can't help but overhear your conversation. Don't you think you should go to the police with this?"

"Jesus Christ, can people stop asking me that?" I wipe my left palm over my face. I have a headache again, and I could be well on my way back to David if these two hadn't interrupted me.

"Baz, I think it's best if you leave," Penny says quietly. "You've heard too much already." There must be at least part of a decent person in him, because he doesn't argue. We both watch in silence as he walks away.

"I'm going, Penny," I say as loud as I can, but it's barely more than a whisper. She starts to protest but I shake her off. "I have to." I turn and walk a few steps. She doesn't follow.

I turn my head back to look at her once more over my shoulder. "With any luck," I say with all the strength I can muster, "you'll never see me again. I know you hate goodbyes, so I won't say it." I turn away so I don't have to see the tears filling up her eyes.

I go out via the front gate. Penny already knows I'm leaving. What's the point in trying to hide anymore?

I'm glad she didn't make it harder by arguing more. I think she saw the sense in me going back, eventually - because it does make sense, doesn't it? He's lived with me for eighteen years, surely he wouldn't want me dead.

So why do I feel like I'm making a huge mistake?

I get halfway into town before I realise I have no idea where I'm going. I get my map out, but it doesn't help much because I've never been taught how to read maps before, or even how to tell which way is north. Frustrated, I put it back.

I decide to head the rest of the way into town and ask for directions there. The sun's not up yet, but the sky is considerably lighter; I'm guessing it's around half six - there should be a few people about.

When I get to the town centre, though, the streets are deserted. No shops are open except for one run down coffee house. Two stray cats are fighting in a nearby alley.

It's a really depressing sight. I'm so caught up in the feeling of needing to cry (again - how do I have this many tears?) that I almost don't hear my name being called.

It sounds far away; it's coming from behind me. The person calling sounds out of breath, too, and decidedly male - although not David's deep growl. I look around, trying to find another " _Simon!_ " they could be referring to, but no one appears from behind the dustbins. I'm completely alone.

"Simon!" they call again. I turn round to see who it is.

The boy from earlier, Baz, is hurtling towards me, hair whipping the air behind him in elegant strands. He's changed outfits - now he's wearing jeans and a shirt. He looks like a model.

"What are you doing here?" I ask once he's close enough to hear.

"I could ask you the same thing," he says, finally coming to a stop in front of me. His hair looks windswept, but not messy - like he planned it. "I came to stop you from going home. Why did you leave?"

"Did Penny send you?" I ask. I'm confused: I'd had the impression they didn't like each other very much.

"No," he says lightly. "I saw Bunce come in alone, put two and two together and followed you here."

I don't know what to say.

"I'm still going." Because I am. "You can't stop me." Because I've only just met him. Because he can't. I turn away from him and begin to walk.

"At least let me buy you a coffee first," he says. It stumps me; I turn back. "You look starved."

I hold in a bitter laugh. I guess I am quite hungry (I'm always hungry). I'd been planning to eat a couple of biscuits to get me through the morning.

"I have to-" I start, but I'm not sure why I'm arguing. My stomach grumbles loudly and Baz cocks an eyebrow as if to say  _I told you so_.

"Okay," I say, convincing myself more than him. "Okay. But we can't be long - I need to get back today."

Baz just smirks.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Baz** _

Don't ask me what I'm doing. I have no clue. This boy's about to go back to an abusive home - which could get him  _killed_  - and I'm taking him on a date? I'm sick. I'm twisted. I'm sitting in front of a guy whose smiles light up the room like he's the fucking sun from Teletubbies.

God I suck at metaphors.

I don't think he thinks this is a date. It's not really, is it? When we (I) paid he pulled out a crumpled fiver, but we could both see it was pathetic so he shoved it back into his pocket.

Simon isn't particularly beautiful in the conventional way. He's shorter than me by about three inches and has a mop of golden brown curls on top of his head (the sides are shaved. Undercut.). His eyes are blue, but not a brilliant blue - plus, they're ringed with red. I think his nose is one of those cute button ones which turn up at the end, but it's hard to tell underneath the swelling and layers of plasters. His lips are full and pink. He rarely smiles, but when he does, it's like a magnet - all eyes go to him.

He looks up and catches me staring. I look away quickly, thankful that I don't blush easily.

What am I doing? He's going to leave soon and I haven't even started trying to talk him out of it. I look up again and he's still staring at me. It takes all of my effort not to break under his powerful gaze - it's like the blue in his eyes is somehow burning into you.

Simon has finished his drink and croissant. He looks round the dire little coffee house awkwardly and rubs his good hand on his thigh. There's a thick tension between the two of us, an unanswered question laying a heavy weight over the table - and it has nothing to do with the pseudo-date we're on. We sit in silence, avoiding each others eyes, for at least another minute, the quiet stretching out the seconds. Outside, life is beginning to gather on the streets - people making their way to work, shops waking up. The sun is starting to appear over the horizon. We've been here for about half an hour, and I still haven't tried to convince Simon to stay.

"Well," Simon starts just as I say, "Simon."

He stutters an apology: "It's okay, you first." I seize the opportunity.

I don't really know what to say, so I make it up as I go along.

"You know why I came back." He nods, grimacing, and opens his mouth, but I hold up a finger. "I want you to let me talk, and then you can lay out your argument - or leave, or whatever you want to do." He doesn't say anything, just looks at me uneasily. I hold his gaze.

"You know why I came back, and I know why you stayed. You knew I was going to try to talk you out of going 'home _'_ , and I think at least part of you wants to hear what I have to say. That part of you is your voice of reason - it knows that going back won't change anything: it will be exactly the same as before you left, if not worse.

"I don't know much about what's going on - before today, I didn't even know you existed - but I've heard enough to know that the reason you feel like you want to go back home is because you miss it." I hold my hand up again before he protests. "I know it sounds a bit far fetched, but it's true - it's the only life you've ever known, and suddenly everything has been flipped upside down. You're alone, far away from the place you grew up in, and it's too sudden; you've blocked out the memories - the reason why you left - in your mind because you're too busy convincing yourself you want to go back. It's making you think you miss him instead of missing the security having a home brought you.

"Think about it for a second. Think about everything that's happened. Think about how you were feeling - did you want to stay there last night? Did you feel safe, secure? No, you didn't."

I'd been looking at him the whole time, but his eyes had wandered, unable to hold my stare for that long. He looks up now, though, as I take a breath and finish.

"You don't want to go back. You want a life."

Neither of us say a word for a long while. We're both a little bit out of breath: I haven't talked this much in my life; and his eyes are glistening. I think he's trying to hold back tears. It's not working.

I didn't mean to make him cry. Maybe I went too far, too harsh - or maybe this was what he'd been thinking all along and it's a relief for him to hear it said out loud.

His mouth opens and closes. I can't work out if he knows what he wants to say but is too choked up to say it, or if he can't find the words at all. I wait for him - I've said all I need to say. I'm not in a rush.

"I think," he says slowly, finally. "I think I'm going to stay. You - you're right." He sniffs, which must be quite painful on his nose. "It was horrible there. I don't ever want to go back. I think." He's still looking at me, but his stare seems down, wounded. He takes a deep breath (through his mouth this time) and says, "Can we go now? I just- I think I scared Penny. I need to check if she's alright."

I nod once and try my best to smile.

We walk most of the way in silence. I cross my arms because I have nothing else to do with them. His stay by his side - I think it hurts for him to move about too much.

"You're not like Penny," he says when we're about halfway back to school, and it surprises me so much I nearly stop walking.

"I should hope not," I say, trying to keep my voice light.

"No - I mean, Penny didn't want me to go back either, but I think she let me leave because she thought it was what I wanted." He pauses. "Hell,  _I_ thought it was what I wanted. But you - you're different. I don't understand why you tried to stop me."

I shrug, but don't offer him anything else in the way of an answer. We keep walking.

"I'll help you," I say when we're almost back at Watford. I don't really know where it comes from.

The sun is completely up now, although it's hidden by the cold December clouds. Simon shivers beneath his thousand jumpers.

"What?" he says.

"I'll help you find the life you want," I say. It's cheesy, but I know I will - I'm just not sure I want to admit why. "I'll help you. You'll never have to go back."

We both stop. I look him straight in the eye. "I'll help you find freedom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah this fic is going to wreck me (it might wreck you too - leave now while you still can)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaahhhhh right so I'm hella sorry for the late (haha, understatement) update, but I do kind of have an excuse (I started a new school - sixth form!!). I've actually had this chapter written for about four weeks now, it's just taken me this long to type it up. Sorry. Again.
> 
> Anyway second point, I'm gonna change the name of the fic (this name is only a working title) to "The Mistakes We Made". I'll change it after uploading chapter six, just a heads up.
> 
> Also, sorry.

_**Penny** _

I don't go back to bed when Simon leaves. I don't even make it past the doors to the dorms - I fall against the wall and break down before they slam shut. I throw my head into my hands, ugly sobs racking through my body.

I made a huge mistake. I tried to do the best thing, do what Simon needed most, but I ended up giving in to his desperate, puppy-eyes face. And now he's going back - to _David_ \- and I'm just sitting on my ass, crying like a fucking idiot. I need to get up. I need to go after him - I could still catch him - but I don't think I can move. I feel physically sick and I'm shaking all over.

Baz comes running down the stairs and sees me, tears puddling in my lap. He mumbles a quick, "What the fuck, Bunce," but his heart isn't in it. He's out the door before I can say anything, and I really hope he's going after Simon because I'm still frozen in place.

I sit there until I can support myself enough to stand up. It's a long time. I'm numb all over: the concrete floor is incredibly uncomfortable on my ass and my toes are going blue (I'm not wearing any shoes - I didn't stop for anything when Baz called me). I've stopped shaking and started shivering instead, but I can finally stand.

I run up to my room to grab a coat and a pair of boots. Trixie is awake now; she glares at me as I pretty much destroy the room trying to find my stuff. I'm back down the stairs in less than a minute.

I have to hope Baz found Simon. I have to hope they're both in town or making their way back. I have to hope, because otherwise I might break down crying again.

I keep running.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Simon_ **

We bump into Penny as we round the corner to the school. (Penny and Baz literally do bump into each other, then jump back a metre or so and brush themselves off as if they crashed into a serial killer. Or a warthog.) Penny's been crying. I want to hug her, but my ribs are hurting even more than they did yesterday and it's a struggle to keep myself upright and walking, let alone bend down to hold her. I smile and hope it's enough.

"I'm so, so sorry, Simon," she says, choking up again.

"You don't need to be, Penny. I'm back now. I didn't go back, and I won't try to again. I promise."

"I just-"

"Shut it, Bunce," Baz says. "It's too early in the morning to hear your incessant whining."

I don't understand Baz. He clearly doesn't like Penny (I don't know why) and he's really unkind to her, acting like he doesn't care about anything. But then, earlier in the coffee house he seemed to want me to stay even though we'd only just met.

He confuses me. I decide not to think about it just yet.

We walk through the gates in silence, me standing between Baz and Penny. Baz has worked himself into a bit of a strop since Penny arrived - he really can't stand to be around her. (I can't tell if there's unresolved sexual tension or if they truly do hate each other. I'm not going to ask - Penny has a boyfriend, and Baz... well, I've only just met him.) Penny looks like she's about to start crying again. I want to hold her hand, but she's standing on the wrong (right) side of me, so I do my best by brushing her arm with mine. She sniffs loudly.

Mitali and Helen are waiting with Miss Possibelf in the entrance when we arrive back at school. I didn't think about the trouble Penny and Baz would get into by leaving this early in the morning. I guess I didn't think about a lot of things when I ran.

"Sorry-" I say, but I don't have a chance to explain myself before Mitali explodes onto Penny.

"Beds empty! No note! This early - you should know better, Penelope! What on earth made you leave at this time of day?"

"Mum-"

"And you, Simon. I recall Helen telling you to rest the ribs, no? Yet here you are - here we are - what do you have to say for yourselves?"

Penny mumbles something that I don't catch. I don't think Mitali hears her either because she opens her mouth as if to argue, but she's interrupted by Baz before she gets the chance.

"Professor," he says coolly - he seems to be the only calm one here. He's even tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. "Allow me. Simon here -" he nods his head in my direction - "decided to go on an early morning expedition back home before anyone could stop him. Luckily for all of us here, I bumped into him on his way out and called Penny in the hopes that she could explain what was going on. Things got out of hand and we have just returned from a trip to Watford town." He turns to Penny. "Did I miss anything?"

She shakes her head, seemingly a little dumbfounded by Baz's outburst.

Mitali frowns, trying to pick apart his explanation for some kind of loophole. "And what were you doing out early enough to see Simon leaving?"

Baz smiles so sweetly it's clear it's fake. "Walking around the grounds, Professor."

Mitali pauses to think about it, then turns to me. "Simon, I must say I'm a little disappointed." I take a step back even though I know she won't hurt me - years of conditioning have taught me never to be too careful. Penny stands closer to me. I know she knows her mum won't hit me; I think she does it to make me feel safer. I force myself to relax.

Mitali notices too, and her expression softens. "You need to stay in bed. Go back to the barn - Helen will have someone there with you at all times." I try not to grimace; I know she's keeping me in for my own health, but it's too similar to what David did. I turn away as Mitali says to the other two, "Neither of you are to leave school for the weekend. Understood?"

Baz nods sharply and Penny looks down, mumbling, "Yes, Mum."

"Simon, Helen will patch you up again and then you can head to the barn. Basil, Penny: if you go now, you might be able to scavenge some breakfast from the leftovers."

With that, she turns and marches out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Once we're back in Ebb's barn, Helen changes my bandages. She frowns and _tsk_ s at my back. I ask her what's wrong.

"A new cut has appeared on your back," she says. "Well, actually, I think an old wound has been reopened."

I don't remember getting that one. It's a deep gash running from the base of my ribs to my hip, right next to the broken bone. Helen says it's a little swollen, but it's probably nothing to worry about - probably just swelling from the ribs.

Now that she's mentioned it, I can distinguish the difference between the burning pain of the cut and the dull, stabbing ache of the broken rib. The overall pain is worse, but I'm glad it's now not focussed in only one place - it somehow doesn't seem as bad.

Helen tells me she's going to get some food and some more painkillers. "Don't go anywhere," she says. (It's a joke, we both know it would be nearly impossible for me to move - I'm lying on my front, and rolling over would be too painful.)

She comes back with a plate of small, doughy balls which she calls scones. I try one, and they're heavenly - they're still warm in the middle and they have sour cherries in them. I eat the whole plate.

Helen smiles as I take the painkillers, pulling a face at the taste, then asks if there's anything I'd like to do. I've already had a look at Ebb's books (last night, before I slept) but there's nothing I recognise, so I say, "I'm kind of tired," yawning. "I think I'm going to try and get some more sleep."

She nods and says,  "Understandable. Your body's got a lot of work to do - needing more sleep is only natural." She smiles at me again, then sits down in a chair at the end of the bed, picking up the book she put down earlier.

It's not difficult for me to get to sleep. After all, I've had a rough night, and I woke up early. The last thought I have before sleep pulls me under is of David, and what he's doing now - has he already started looking for me? Or does he care about me so little that he's not even going to bother?

 

I'm not sure how long I sleep for. I turn my head as best I can and look out of the window - it's snowing. I shiver and try to burrow further under the covers.

I attempt to look around the room, but I'm still laying on my front and it hurts to move about, so I give up. Whoever's in the room must hear me rustling, because they say, "Simon? Are you awake?"

It's Penny. She comes over and kneels beside my head so I can see her properly.

"Helen had to go back to the office and help someone else so I said we'd stay with you." I'm so caught up in feeling sick for taking up Helen's time when she was needed elsewhere that I almost miss the "we".

"Who's with you?" I ask. My voice is hoarse and I didn't realise talking used this many muscles in my chest, but I think Penny understands the question.

"I bought Agatha along, do you mind?" I try to remember Penny talking about an Agatha, but I don't think I've ever heard the name before.

"Hi, Agatha," I say. "I'm Simon."

"I know who you are," she says. "Penny talks about you all the time." Her voice isn't like any voices I've heard before, although I don't have many to go by. It's high-pitched and sweet, like honey. I wonder if she sings.

"You do, Penny?" I ask, because I don't really know what she could have said about me without revealing too much.

"I've mentioned you a couple of times," she says, sounding embarrassed. "But I don't really say that much."

I try and hide my sigh of relief. I trust Penny, I really do, but she talks a lot, and it's sometimes hard to know if she remembers the boundaries we've set.

"Yeah, you do. It's always "My friend Simon" with you. I thought you were making him up at first, like your American boyfriend."

"I wasn't making Micah up, Agatha, you've met him!"

"Yeah, when we were _thirteen_. I thought you were just using a name I recognised in the hopes he would seem more real."

"I wasn't making him up."

"So you do have a boyfriend?"

" _Yes!_ "

"Does Simon?"

"Does Simon have a _boyfriend_?""

"Boys can have boyfriends?" I ask, incredulous. I'd never really thought about it before, I'd just assumed that all boys had girlfriends and all girls had boyfriends. It does kind of make sense, though - why would all boys be automatically attracted to girls?

Penny says something, but Agatha says, "Didn't you know that?" at the same time so I don't hear her.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," I confirm. "Nor do I have a girlfriend. I guess I haven't really had much time to think about that sort of thing."

Penny snorts, and I'm glad she finds it funny instead of letting the joke fall flat.

"Hey, Penny, would you be able to get Helen for me?" I ask before Agatha can question my last statement. "I think I need some more painkillers."

"Of course," she says, already halfway out the door. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good," I say as she leaves.

It's kind of awkward, being alone in the room with Agatha. I'm still lying on my front facing the window so I can't see her (she's sitting on the chair at the foot of the bed), but I can feel her stare boring into me. I want to say something to break the silence, but I don't know what.

"So," she says after what feels like a lifetime. "Where are you from?"

"Uh, I live in the same town as Penny," I say, because I don't actually know what it's called. "Well, _lived_."

"Why did you come here?" she asks. I don't think she's trying to pry - she's just making conversation - but I don't know how to answer. I leave the question hanging in the air and hope she gets the message.

"Okay, what school do you go to?"

"I've never been to school before."

"So you're home schooled?"

I pause. "Yes."

Agatha seems stumped by my blunt responses. She's quiet for a few seconds, and I feel bad - it's not her fault I can't tell her anything. I almost open my mouth to attempt to explain myself, but Penny bursts back into the room, chatting loudly with Helen.

"And he was like, "I'm twenty years old, Mum, I can do what I want with my life,"" - Penny puts on a low voice for this - "And Mum was like, "Prem, I didn't raise you this way, where did you even come up with the idea?" Honestly, it was hilarious." Helen laughs, but stops as soon as she sees me. At some point since Penny left, I started shivering again. I don't think it was to do with the gale blowing in through the open door - I feel like I'm burning up - but Penny rushes to close it anyway. My teeth are knocking against each other loudly. Helen comes over and holds the back of her hand to my forehead.

She _tut_ s, a worried expression on her face, and shoos the other two out. Penny leaves after only a few short protests, her mouth drawn into a grim line. Agatha turns and waves to me before she closes the door behind her, a small, sweet smile playing on her lips.

Helen says, "This is worse than I thought, Simon. You have a temperature, which almost definitely means the cut is infected." She's lifting up my jumper to take off the bandages. "I don't want to worry you, but... I won't be able to heal this one on my own."

"Can't I just take some more painkillers?" I ask. I know I'm missing her point, somewhere. She sounds apologetic.

She lets out a short huff, a half-laugh. "Painkillers don't heal anything - they just take the pain away temporarily." She takes in a sharp breath as she removes the bandages; it's bad. I finally understand what she's about to say just seconds before she says it. "This is a job for the hospital."

My heart deflates. I close my eyes but it doesn't stop the rush of images and memories that sweep through my mind, memories of David and all the times I asked to go to the hospital for the injuries he'd caused.

_"You'll just be wasting the doctors' time, Simon. Just think - they could be helping someone with a serious injury. If you take them away from that, their patient might die. Do you want that sort of blood on your hands?"_

_"But-"_

_"Don't ask me again, Simon."_

Of course, the first few times I did ask him again. Once, he'd ground salt into a gash on my shoulder so that it would take longer to heal as punishment. That was the last time I mentioned a hospital around him.

I open my eyes and look up at Helen. She looks like she's trying to smile sympathetically at me, but it's more of a grimace. I don't blame her.

"Are you sure I won't be wasting their time?"

Again comes the huff of air. "Of course not, they have plenty of staff to go around. Plus, yours would be an emergency case - they'll have to treat you as fast as possible."

This doesn't help me feel better. "Can't I wait a little longer? It might- It might heal on its own, still."

She gives me a look that says, ' _No, it won't_ ', but she nods slightly and says, "Fine. But if it gets any worse, we're going to the hospital."

Fair enough.

 

* * *

 

 

I don't realise I've fallen asleep until I wake up in a cold sweat, my body screaming at me. My brain feels all mushy and numb, which is somehow worse than the hellfire coursing through my veins.

I think this is the _worse_ Helen was talking about.

I don't want to let her know I'm awake. I don't want her to know how bad it is. I want to stall for as long as possible, but I accidentally shift my shoulder and grunt in pain as every nerve ending in my body explodes. I feel like a supernova, a dying ball of fire, sucking everything nearby in and melting it on my skin. Helen's by the side of my bed but I can't really see her; my vision's all fuzzy and weird like I'm living outside my body, watching and feeling every ounce of excruciating pain. My throat is dry - I need a drink, but I can't even move my lips to ask Helen for a glass, let alone sit up to drink it. The world is going black around the edges.

Helen is talking, I think, but I don't know what she's saying. Hopefully it's something to make the pain _go away_. Right now, I don't care how she does it. I just want it gone.

But it's not going - I can't remember a time before the fire, before the sweat, before the heat rising from my shivering body. I want to pass out again just to feel some relief, but the pain is sharpening my senses, keeping me awake and feeling. I try to breathe.

_In, out. In, out. In. Out. In. In. In..._

I'm back. Hands are on me: I can't tell if it's a fever dream or the devil coming to claim me for his own, but I'm moving and the pain isn't going away.

My heart is either racing or has stopped, I don't know. I'm finally losing feeling, and it's a slow process - my feet first, then my fingers, my legs, my chest, my head...

 

* * *

 

 

I don't know how long I was out for. My eyes are stuck together with sleep so it must have been quite a while. I try to open them to get my bearings, but I'm assaulted with a million lights stabbing my eyes. I scrunch them shut, then try again, slower this time.

The scene isn't one I'm used to. I'm on a white bed in a white room wearing a white gown. The room is small and lined with machines - each of which is connected to my arms with a long, thin tube.

This must be a hospital.

I'm not in pain.

The next rush of emotions takes me a few minutes to sort through: things like " _You've wasted their time_ " and " _It was worth it_ " and " _You're being selfish_ " and " _Maybe I'm dead_ " and " _How does this work_ " and " _Oh god, what if David knows-_ "

_He doesn't_ , I tell myself, over and over. There is no way he could know.

The door opens, pulling me out of my thoughts, and for a moment my heart freezes because the short brown hair and tiny moustache scream _David_ , but I look again and realise he's shorter than my David, with glasses and a slightly mousey expression.

I take a deep breath. I can do this.

"Awake, are we?" the doctor asks. I recognise the voice, slightly, which is confusing because I know I've never seen him before. "How do you feel?"

I don't know how to respond. The pain is gone, yes, but I don't feel better - I feel confused and shaken up. I shrug and hope it conveys some sort of message.

"I'm Doctor Wellbelove," he says. "I don't want you to worry about data protection - we've got that all covered here, no one will know a thing."

As he talks, he doesn't look at me - instead, he moves around the room, methodically checking the machines and monitors, pushing buttons every so often.

"You also don't need to worry about taking up space - you've been asleep for three days, and, if all goes well, we can release you tonight."

_Three days_. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"Are you feeling up to visitors?" he asks. "Penny's waiting outside - she's been here all day waiting for you to wake up."

My chest expands. I dread to think of how much I worried Penny, being rushed to hospital like this. I think Doctor Wellbelove can sense my excitement, because he smiles and goes to open the door.

Penny very nearly comes flying into the room, her hair everywhere and her eyes wild. She's been crying, and she starts again now. I almost ask her to stop - I can feel my eyes filling up as well.

"Thanks, Doctor Wellbelove," she says.

"No problem, sweet. Is Agatha with you?"

"No, she stayed at school. Do you want me to pass a message?"

"It's alright, she has a phone." He faces me again, now on his way out of the room. "I'll leave you two alone. Do you need anything, Simon?"

"Just some water, please," I say as he leaves.

Penny's still crying, the tears dripping off her chin. She's sat on a small, plastic chair next to the bed. I would move over so she can sit on the bed with me, but there are so many wires and tubes there still wouldn't be room for her.

She takes hold of my hand, gently wrapping it in both of hers. "Please don't ever do anything like this to me again, Simon."

The choke in her voice chokes me, too. I feel a tear trace a path down my face, coming to rest on my top lip.

"I thought you were- I didn't know-" she stutters. "I didn't know if you were going to make it. I was so scared." Her voice breaks again.

"I'm sorry, Pen." I don't know what else to do.

We sit there like that for what seems like hours, staring at each other, our tears telling a thousand stories we can't voice ourselves. We both stop crying at some point. I didn't bother to wipe away my tears and they've left salty tracks on my cheeks. I can see Penny's the same.

Penny sits up straight after some time, but doesn't let go of my hand.

"Baz asked about you," she says.

I try to hide how much that excites me - I don't even know why it does. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It wasn't much," she continues. "He was curious as to where you were. I guess he wanted to be sure you hadn't gone back home again."

"We've been over this, Penny, I'm not going back-"

"I _know_ , Simon. I was just trying to come up with an explanation. He barely knows you at all - and he hates me."

She has a point. I'm not sure why Baz would ask about me either. Maybe I could ask _him_ when I get back to school.

Penny starts to say something else, but Dr Wellbelove comes in with a glass of water, so her voice is drowned out.

"How do you feel about going home, Simon?" he asks cheerily once he's handed me the water.

I try not to laugh bitterly at that. Penny lets out a small huff.

"I think I could go back to school now," I say. I'd say that even if I wasn't ready, because I've already taken up too much space and too much time here. I can't take up any more.

"Good," he says, then proceeds to take the tubes and wires out of my arms, one by one. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would: it stings a little, and tiny blobs of blood form on the surface where the wires were, but it's nothing I can't handle.

Once he's done, he checks me over one last time. He sends Penny out for this, even though I tell him I don't mind her being there.

The process is pretty quick. He gives me some more painkillers to take with me for the ribs, and tells me a more detailed version of Helen's what-not-to-do list.

"You're all set," he says, then he pats me on the shoulder and looks at me with a sympathetic, sorry expression that I've been seeing a lot lately.

"Thank you so much, Sir," I say.

"Oh, call me Welby," he says, and this time his smile is genuine. We start to walk out the door.

Penny's waiting right outside the door for us. When I come out, she takes my hand and doesn't let go.

"Mum's outside with the car," she says as we walk to the exit. I open my mouth, but Penny interrupts - she knows what I'm going to say. "Don't worry. She offered."

We sit in the back of the car, Penny still holding my hand. Nobody talks, but nobody needs to - it's a comfortable silence, something that doesn't happen much in my life.

For the first time ever, I think, I'm excited. I'm not even sure why; I should be nervous - I have no idea what's going to happen next. But I'm with Penny, and I'm safe, and the thought of Baz and all the other new people I might meet makes me feel happy and warm.

For the first time ever, I think, I know what love is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another episode of Jemima Doesn't Know Facts, Just Roll With It.
> 
> Also, backstory: in this fic, Helen and Premal are in the same school year. They dated for about a week before Helen broke up with him.


End file.
